Bang and blame

My poor baby!

If you could see yourself now. If you could see yourself now, baby, as the tides turn!
But you don't, because you are too much used to be so in control.
You don't see so I have to tell you, roll over me, let me go, it's an old story, even the words we had have grown old. We have grown old. It's not my thing, so let it go.

I wish you could see yourself now. The tables have turned, your hinges held the world while it swung, while it was in motion. The screws have loosened up, and now the world has fallen out of your grasp. I wish you could see yourself now! I could even turn the screw back, as it's almost painful to watch you turn the inside out. But I won't do it. It's not my thing.

Yeah, you have a little worry, I know it all too well. Who dares to cross your threshold? Who risks trespassing your territory? Each kiss that happens to be on your way, tell me, what would you do with it? Another screw to drop to join the other hundreds.

You know that's not my thing.

All the screws from your hinges, you used it for constructing a wicked totem of a god from the past. A god that you adore, a god you will never get rid of. A god that kisses you, tugs you and rubs you, even jumps on you... it beats you and it hits you. Your god! Your love. Your only love.

So let it go! So let me go. Adore your god and get rid of your hinges, the shackles that used to be your enthralling gems once. Your world doesn't revolve around anything but yourself and your love from now on.

And that's the past; so let it go.

Millow

Hallways
I see
Always
Icy

I told myself: I can write something like this, can't I? So I started to play with words.

Pillow. Willow. Another one? Mellow? Oh, fuck that. That doesn't even rhyme.

Millow. That doesn't exist, but you know what? It exists for me. I've come to the conclusion that it's either doesn't exist and you are afraid to create it, or it doesn't exist so you create it.
Sheesh, I'm already giving myself away. Reaching the conclusion within ~10 lines.
But let's make my statement also the hypothesis of the post. My professors tend to complain about the lack of analysis in my texts, so this should be a proper moment and place to see whether I truly lack the analytical approach.

Open rooms
Contra-zooms

Orange booms. Crescent moons. Another one? I don't have any, already weakening my hypothesis. It seems that things I create have questionable life expectancy and durability at best. It's a never-ending struggle against entropy, which seems to rule not only the basic laws of all living things but fundamentally everything, starting from my room. These days I'm having almost no rest, I caught flu, so anytime I enter my room I just throw things on the ground. All these scattered belongings started to from a neat little island, which bothered me in the first place, but now I'm growing fond of it day by day. It's as if The Enemy, the vile and treacherous Entropy itself decided to create something.

Pictures may
Faces may
Fade away
Fade away

Words may. Promises may.... Another one? Future may? Can the future fade away? We associate the term fading with past things. The phenomenon of time makes us perceive it as a passing thing. Future does fade away, though. See, the things I create fade away: due to various reasons, most of my personal belongings won't exist in a couple of centuries. Most of the information I create are simply going to be erased by the grandiose and impenetrable mechanism of time. And eventually, I'll fade away as well. One day, I'll stop to exist, some people will definitely bury me, then they will die as well, and their grave diggers will die as well. But I suppose I don't have to introduce my readers to the act of passing.

Brothers then 
Get close to them
Step outside
Gunmetal sky
Peel away

That doesn't even follow the previous pattern, guys. I won't do anything with it, sorry.
Peel away! What a catchy phrase, though. I've written a post not long ago where I drew some semblance between Achilles and myself. As Homer told, he chose eternal greatness and a short life instead of dying at an old age but in complete obscurity. Does greatness stand the test of time? Does fame stand it? Is there anything in our known world that could practically withstand the grinding wheels of entropy?

Nope.

The reality is as follows: it doesn't matter if we create something or not, because it's either our own idleness or entropy destroying it. We possess the ability to motivate people on a local or a global scale; we are able to compete with entropy and some of us seem to cheat the irreversible process of it; but then again, each and every one of us will fail. We already have arguments on things happening just a few thousands of years ago- why would anyone from the next millenia think that Alexander the Great was a real person? Or, that Péter Lévay had a blog, for that matter. Things we create are destinned to effloresce and then eventually meet their demise.

Children play
Fade away
Where's the scars
Fade away
Fade away

One last thing, though. If we keep in our heads that all we do is predestinned to end, and yet we still persist, we continue creating, we keep fighting that pointless battle, we might even discover things that our normally indolent behavior would prevent from seeing.

And that is...

Entropy is the frame of our lives. The place, this marvellous universe we were born into is all within the monolithic framework of entropy. This is where we are expected to act. This is were we are expected to create. We don't have to change anything in the framework, and if we comply that and stop trying to bend the rules to our will, then, but only then we will see that creation, with all its sweat, doubt and tears is the only, only true joy we can ever experience through our lives.